The Resurrection Poem by John Bowring

He is not here-He is not here-
Could death the Son of Life imprison?
Now check the sigh and wipe the tear,
For lo! the Lord, the Lord is risen.


The grave, that claimed Him, is compelled
To lose the prey that death had given:
The conqu'ror yields the prize he held,
And lo! the Lord ascends to heaven.


Promise and pledge of life to all!
Ruler of death! thy advent hailing,
Upon our God and thine we call-
The Great, the Wise, the All-availing.


For He who raised thee from thy tomb
Shall raise us-though in death we wither;
Who called our Elder Brother home
Shall call us in His mercy thither.